


What It Should Have Been

by arcielee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcielee/pseuds/arcielee
Summary: I have been an avid Star Wars fan since I was 8 years old and just finally watched Rise of Skywalker on Disney+. I absolutely trust JJ Abrams and felt he was very much short-changed by corp Disney. It truly had the potential for so much more, but fear restricted the sequels severely.This is the re-telling of the sequel Star Wars trilogy, with What It Should Have Been. This is a working title and I plan on breaking it into 3 parts to cover each film, The Force Awakens being Liberation.I have researched from fandoms to Reddit posts of theories/ideas and it has inspired me to write. I do have an OC because I am a dorky fangirl, but I swear she is not a Mary Sue. She is more an extension of another character's struggle between good and evil.I truly hope you enjoy.
Relationships: Ben Solo|Kylo Ren/OC, Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been an avid Star Wars fan since I was 8 years old and just finally watched Rise of Skywalker on Disney+. I absolutely trust JJ Abrams and felt he was very much short-changed by corp Disney. It truly had the potential for so much more, but fear restricted the sequels severely. 
> 
> This is the re-telling of the sequel Star Wars trilogy, with What It Should Have Been. This is a working title and I plan on breaking it into 3 parts to cover each film, The Force Awakens being Liberation. 
> 
> I have researched from fandoms to Reddit posts of theories/ideas and it has inspired me to write. I do have an OC because I am a dorky fangirl, but I swear she is not a Mary Sue. She is more an extension of another character's struggle between good and evil.
> 
> I truly hope you enjoy.

##  **LIBERATION**

****

### CHAPTER I

****

He was numb, but not in the way the First Order meticulously designed. 

FN-2187 was still fallible, always a liability, since coming from a new generation of Stormtroopers that were not cloned, but conscripted into the military forces. He had been too young to retain any memories of his family, or maybe the memories had been obliterated, and fell into the arduous training well enough, but without the same depth of loyalty he noticed the other soldiers seemingly possessed. He finished his ranks dutifully and, despite the promise he had shown in training, it all left him in that moment at Tuanol. 

The explosions of village’s huts choked the air with the smoke that billowed from what once had been a home; the screams of terror as parents tried to protect the children, while others gave a despondent attempt to take up arms. Hot, red beams cut through the smoke and his assigned partner took a blast into his chestplate; he crumpled to the ground. FN-2187 dropped to his side, letting go of his blaster so it hung from its straps, and held the dying soldier in shock. 

The First Order had always looked down on bonds or shared kinship that delved passed their one true mission: total galactic domination. Every detail in their armor implicatively removed them from reality, that even their helmets had been redesigned and redeveloped to intake their surroundings in a more militant sense, but gave him a sense of surrealism with his scotopic vision to what was in front of him. That was until he felt the gloved hand tremble as it reached across and touched his helmet, leaving a fresh streak of blood that smeared his lenses. 

He dropped the body, uncouth and panicked, at Captain Phasma’s call so he could fall in line with the other soldiers. Time began to blur; a vague remembrance of a found Resistance officer, Rebel scum as they sneered, and that feeling that engulfed him whenever the Sith lord, Kylo Ren, would appear to issue a command; a despondence that was suffocating. 

“Kill them all.” 

This was a moment that gave FN-2187 a new perspective. Those formidable years of training left him as he watched the Troopers finish huddling the surviving civilians towards the center of their burning hamlet. That lingering sense of duty was gone once Captain Phasma declared to execute them all. His finger hovered over his unused trigger and he could not join the ruthlessness of his comrades, who began to unapologetically unload into the crowd of villagers. 

That was the moment that replayed in his mind as they loaded back into the shuttles to return to their assigned Star Destroyer. FN-2187 was still numb as he replayed that moment again while he moved down the plank. His boots solidly hit the platform of the hangar and he watched the soldiers move to return their equipment. He did not follow them; his surroundings were still surreal and he felt his heartbeat reverberate through his chestplate, his helmet began to shrink and press against his skull. He staggered forward to disappear down a corridor and pull his helmet off, removing the predeterimed vision and see his reality for what it truly was: strategic murder. 

As he gulped for air, a voice cut through him. “FN-2187. Submit your blaster for inspection.” 

Her voice was cold and straightened his spine, though he could only turn half-heartedly to face Captain Phamsa. She stood in her gleaming armor and decorated cape that partially draped over one shoulder; she was always poised with her blaster, in case a soldier dared not take what was commanded. 

He did not dare. “Yes, Captain.” He struggled to hide his panic, that severe anxiety that curdled in his chest and made every breath excruciating. 

She took notice of his discomfort and pressed, “And who gave you permission to remove that helmet?” Her voice was both smooth and scathing. 

“I’m sorry, Captain-” 

“Report to my division once you turn in your weapon.” She turned to leave him, but stopped to issue a warning. “Do not make me wait.” 

The panic returned in tenfold at the prospect of being evaluated and, ultimately, being sent to be Reconditioned. He pressed the helmet back onto his head, which felt swollen as heat radiated from his face, and his mind went blank for a moment. Then a calming feeling crept into him, a thought that crossed his mind. He remembered the Rebel scum pilot, the remaining survivor of the slaughter, and though he could barely visualize his face, he knew this could be his chance. He moved quickly to turn in his blaster and then to the barracks to don clean armor for the evaluation, all while the feeling began to formulate a plan. 

* * * *

“Where did this come from?” Her expression furrowed as the BB unit wheeled in behind her sister. Rey placed her staff in the corner of their small hutch and placed the helmet by its side; she took a step to sit on the ottoman towards the center to remove her boots, shaking the sand from them. “I just fucking swept!” She exclaimed, but her tone was also teasing. The hutch floor was concrete and, despite her sister’s diligent upkeep, there was always a bit of sand that seemed to sprinkle across where there was no matting. 

Rey rolled her eyes at her sister’s teasing nag. “This world is an absolute wasteland of predominantly sand, Rem.” Her tone flat. She then gestured to the BB unit, “I saved it. Teedo was trying to hack this droid for parts.” She left out her hesitation at Unkar Plutt’s concession stand at the prospect of sixty portions to trade it in. “I only got a half portion for today’s run.” 

Rem finished sweeping out the remnants from her sister’s daily scavenge and moved her boots back towards the door to clear up what little room could be spared. “That’ll be fine. I have leftovers from the mistress’ supper to go with it,” she gestured to a kettle resting on a hot plate. It was placed on an upturned crate for a makeshift table, decorated with their few kitchen utensils. “Eat up,” Rem’s voice was commanding as ever. “You must be exhausted from rescuing droids and all.” 

The BB unit hummed as Rey seated herself on top of the worn pillows, crossing her legs; she pulled out the plastic bag and began to prep the polystarch bread. Inside the kettle, she smelled a vegetable soup which would help to soften the greenish loaf. “Its name is BB-8,” she said, her mouth full of supper. Rem poured her a drink from the pitcher and set the mug back down. “Its master is going to be coming for him, so it’s only for this one night.” 

Rem moved towards the back on the hutch and began to slide out of her dark harem pants. “By all means, make yourself at home,” she nodded at the droid. 

BB-8’s domed head turned to take in its surroundings. The hut was small, but cozy. There was a slender mattress towards the back where Rem undressed; it was on top of a stand with storage beneath and adjacent was a rolled up sleeping mat, pillows stacked next to it. A worn rug sprawled out underneath to designate where they slept, but the rest of the room was bare concrete. There were hooks drilled into the wall that hung Rey’s scavenger garb and Rem’s service uniform, it decorated the otherwise plain walls. A tall and thin dresser, with a few trinkets on top, was placed against a wall to the right when you first entered. 

Rem walked diagonally across, stepping over the small droid with her shapely, bare legs, and grabbed a brush from the dresser top. She moved back to seat herself on the bed and began to unbraid the rows of her dark brunette locks. “Will you go back to Unkar’s junkyard with it tomorrow? If the master returns, that is where they would most likely end up.” 

Rey grabbed the bowl and brought it to her lips, finishing the last of her liquid meal. “I am going to go there tomorrow,” she answered. “Unkar was being more narcissistic than usual with my first run. Portions are bargainable, but I hope he does not try with our ship again.” 

Rem began at the tips of her kinked curls and began to work her way upwards through her thick hair. “I will go with you tomorrow. Mistress has errands for me anyway in the market and I will make sure to give him another deposit.” She grew quiet as she finished through a last knot, running her fingers to search for anymore. “We’re getting off this planet, Rey. Mistress says Jakku officials are finishing negotiations about the First Order blockade. She says she’ll soon be able to pay me the backlogged salary and that should be enough for our ship. We can finally leave and go join the fight.” 

Rey wiped her mouth with the back of her palm, using her other to bring the mug to her lips for a deep drink. “I believe this,” she said after she swallowed. “Did you notice what I brought in?” 

Her sister was re-braiding her hair but peered over to the forgotten helmet by the doorway. Rem smiled when she saw the faint orange markings. “Rebel scum,” her tone teasing again. 

Rey was able to stretch her lanky frame backwards, far enough to touch it with just her fingertips. The helmet inched, but was still slightly out of grasp. BB-8 rolled to the side and nudged it in her direction with a mechanical appendage. “Thank you,” she said, picking up the helmet and placing it back on her head. Her fingers touched the tinted visor to push it up, but the sand corrosion kept it in place. “I found it today. Seems like an omen.” 

“It suits you,” Rem’s smile was warm and proud. Her sister was an avid pilot but often overlooked because of their status on the wasted planet. Rem admired her sister’s continuing passion, spending the planet’s long summers doing work at Unkar’s junkyard. She thought it helped them keep their focus on the goal of joining the Resistance. “They’ll be lucky to have you.” 

“Maybe you could finish your training,” Rey pulled the helmet off and placed it at her side, resting an elbow on top. “It has not left you. I can still feel the force surging through your veins.” 

Rem’s lips curled; she tied the end of her braid and placed her hands on her bare thighs, looking down at the brush in her lap. Her eyes focused, the green danced more in her hazel irises, and the brush slowly rose and began to move across the room. BB-8 whistled appreciatively as it set back down in its place on top of the dresser. She sighed.“The Force helps me with chores, mostly. Besides, we both know Master Skywalker is dead,” she reminded her sister. “Who would continue our training?” 

“The general.” 

Rem shrugged and brought her pasty legs under the thin blanket; she watched Rey move to roll out the mat and set the pillows. “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.” 

Rey grinned at the future, “I guess we will.” 

* * * *

He was assigned to Reconditioning, as he predicted, but his steps were determined and pulled him to a different direction. When he arrived, the door slid open to two Stormtroopers who peered at FN-2187, one standing on either side of the Resistance prisoner; the Rebel lazily lifted his head, dazed from his wounds that had finally clotted around his hairline and stopped the bleeding. 

“Ren wants to see the prisoner,” his voice was confident and his fellow soldiers helped release the restraints and placed bindings on the pilot’s wrists. 

FN-2187 pushed him back into the corridor, his blaster never leaving his side. The Rebel prisoner was about his height and walked clumsily, trying to find his footing and keep up with the urgent steps. He felt him peering around, probably looking for his chance to escape. 

“Turn here,” FN-2187 pushed him into a crevice, tucked away from prying eyes. He kept his voice low. “Listen to me carefully,” he said and the Rebel’s brow scrunched to comprehend what was happening. “If you do exactly what I say, I can get you out of here.” 

His tone was incredulous, “Wh-what?” 

FN-2187 ripped his helmet off and saw the Rebel with his own eyes. His complexion was olive and battered, the streaks of blood that brought out the severity in his gaze; brunette tendrils curled around his face and his dark eyes were framed by equally dark lashes. The crevice was cramped and FN-2187 watched as the Rebel searched his newly revealed face when he noticed the pilot’s scent, which was apparent, but not overwhelming and vastly different from the polish and shine of the Stormtrooper uniforms. “This is a rescue,” his voice finally leveled. “I’m helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE fighter?” 

The Rebel’s head tilted, “You’re with the Resistance?” 

“What?” FN-2187 was thrown by the question and inserted the urgency back into his voice. “No, no, I’m breaking you out of here. Can you fly a TIE fighter?” 

The Rebel ignored the change in tone and seemingly took offense to the repeated question. “I can fly anything,” his voice was determined. 

FN-2187 could not help but smile at the sharp reply, his pearly white teeth shone against his dark melanin skin tone and seemed to finally relax the Rebel. He released the bindings but left them, unlocked, at the wrist for show. The Rebel’s dark eyes looked over him again and he asked him, “Why are you helping me?” 

Another question! “Because it’s the right thing to do.” 

A roguish smile finally broke across his face. “You need a pilot,” his response was matter-of-fact. 

He did not break, but instead owned being called on his insincere statement, “I need a pilot.” 

The Rebel nodded his head and moved his wrists to clasp one hand on his shoulder, “We’re gonna do this.” 

FN-2187 wanted to share his confidence but could only muster, “Yeah?” He put his helmet back on, they checked again that the bindings appeared to be in place and moved towards the hangar. By all appearance, he was escorting a prisoner, but he began to feel that same disquieted burn in his chest and he said, “Okay, stay calm, stay calm.” 

“I am calm,” The Rebel replied. 

“I was talking to myself.” He exhaled, “Okay, this way,” and they turned towards a special forces TIE fighter that was docked and not as crowded. 

They pushed unnoticed and were able to drop into the cockpit, the Rebel winced as he fell into the pilot’s chair, and shed the bindings entirely. His eyes scanned the dashboard, a childish smile played on his lips, “I always wanted to fly one of these,” he said out loud. “Can you shoot?” He called back to his rescuer. 

“Blasters, I can,” FN-2187 tried for confidence and his anxiety seemingly began to dwindle away. 

“Okay, same principal,” the Rebel began to flip switches, bringing the ship to life. “Use the toggle on the left to switch between missiles, cannons, and mag pulse and use the site on your right to aim, triggers to fire.” 

FN-2187 was impressed as he looked over his controls as the Rebel described, but intimidated by the overload of information. “This seems very complicated.” 

“You’ll be fine,” he responded, his tone reassuring. The TIE fighter began to lift and then lurched forward, jerking them. “I can fix this,” he murmured, his fingers fluttered across the dash, searching to release the cables that struggled to ground them. 

Outside the cockpit, FN-2187 saw Stormtroopers take notice of the erratic TIE and rushed to man FWMB-10 placed around the hangar, taking aim at the rogue fighter. He responded with laser blasters that tore through the soldiers; he aimed higher and fired at the command room, the glass imploding with the ship’s ammo. 

The TIE suddenly evened from it’s haphazard escape. “I got it!” He cried out and moved the ship from the docking bay. “Woah, this thing really moves,” he commented, swerving back and forth from the blasts on the cannons on the underbelly of the Star Destroyer. “We have got to take out as many of those as we can, or we will not get very far.” “All right!” FN-2187 responded and twisted the handles to take aim. 

“I’m just gonna get you in position, just stay sharp,” his voice trailed as the TIE swooped towards the weapon. “Up ahead! You see it? I’ve got us dead centered, it should be a clean shot!” 

He locked onto the target and fired, “I got it,” he exclaimed as it exploded, shrapnel cut through space but the Rebel moved through the debris with ease. “Yes! Did you see that?” 

“Hell yes, I saw that,” the Rebel continued to maneuver the ship. “Hey, you never told me your name.” 

“FN-2187,” it was an automatic response. 

The Rebel twisted his head to eye the deserter. “FN-what?” 

“It’s the only name they ever gave me,” he was now aware of the Rebel’s physical reaction. His eyes were still peeled for incoming fighters, but his chest tightened slightly. 

“Well, I ain’t using it,” he laughed. “FN, huh? Hm, Finn. How about I call you Finn. That all right with you?” 

Finn, the name washed over him with a warmth that dissipated the grip in his chest. Despite the possible impending doom from their botched escape, he could not suppress the smile on his face, “‘Finn.’ Yeah, ‘Finn’, I like that!” 

The Rebel smiled at Finn’s response, “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.” 

“Good to meet you Poe.” 

“Great to meet you, Finn.” His tone was warm and felt genuine. “One is coming towards you. My right, your left. Do you see it?” 

“Hold on, I see it,” Finn focused and fired, the blasts ripped through and obliterated the fighter. 

“Nice shot,” Poe complimented and shifted the TIE fighter. 

Finn felt that same panic return, “Wait. Where are we going?” 

“We’re going back to Jakku,” Poe responded, his tone calm and even. 

“No! No, no we can’t go back to Jakku!” The panic choked him. “We gotta get out of this system!” Near missed blasts rocked the fighter and Finn gripped the handles, but could not respond to the incoming shots fired. 

Poe felt Finn’s trepidation and kept his tone even, “Finn, trust me. We have to go back. There is a droid there that I have to get before the First Order does.” 

“-what, a droid?!” 

He continued calmly, “It's a BB unit. Orange and white, one of a kind. He has something that the Resistance is in dire need of.” 

“We need to get as far away from the First Order as we can!” Finn was hoarse with exasperation, terror choked his words. “We go back to Jakku, we die!” 

Poe felt his fear radiate off of him, “Finn,” he honeyed his tone to try and ease the panic. “This droid’s got a map that leads straight to Luke Skywalker.” 

“You have got to be kidding me. That’s not even a real person-” 

A blast cut him short and there was a flash of white. The TIE fighter was crippled and began to spiral towards Jakku’s earth, silencing the debate about whether to return or not.


	2. Chapter 2

###  **CHAPTER II**

Finn opened his eyes to find himself on his back; the sun bore down overhead and reflected from the sand dunes that stretched endlessly. He palmed at his chest and realized he was still strapped to the gunner’s chair and was detached from the TIE fighter, the parachute blowing in the wind behind him. Finn unclasped and sat up. _Poe,_ he thought, as his eyes scanned for another ejected seat. 

Up ahead he saw the remains of the TIE fighter, smoke billowing from the flames that curled around the titanium hull. “Poe!” He clambered to his feet and made his way towards the wreckage. “Poe!” He saw the laminated glass was blown out, but the pilot’s chair remained with Poe’s leather jacket draped over. He grabbed it and called out, “Poe? Poe!” 

The ground shifted and began to sink downwards, gusts of sands jutted up in clouds. Finn pushed away from the TIE ship and scrambled backwards, watching as the ship disappeared beneath the sand leaving him alone and disheartened. 

Defeat hovered over him as he sat in silence, absentmindedly thumbing the patches on Poe’s jacket. His first friend outside the fleet was gone. Finn pulled himself back to his feet and trudged forward, Poe’s flight jacket over his shoulder as he palmed to remove each bit of Trooper armor and leave them in a trail behind him. 

He was rid of the armor, wearing nothing but his black tunic, his black pants, and his black boots that used to shine with the glory of the First Order, but were scuffed beyond recognition by the day’s events. He took the jacket to hold over his head and block out the sun; Poe’s musk lingered, just as he remembered in that moment in the corridor. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

The sand dunes seemed endless and at a peak, he finally spotted a settlement bellow tucked away in a valley. It was still several kilometres away, but the sight gave renewed hope and he walked with numb legs onward, slipping his arms into the leather sleeves of Poe’s jacket. It was the perfect fit. 

Coming closer, people and aliens alike walked around the outpost, a scattered array of merchant tents and stands, with large ship parts discarded around. Finn was sun-scorched and nearing delirium as he approached. “Water,” he croaked to passersby. Weird looks were given in return as he staggered through the crowd. “Water,” he rasped again. 

Ahead he saw a large happabore that was snout first in a watering trough, sloppy and lapping up the dirty water. He moved towards the massive creature and knelt by his side, taking a handful of water to drink. The taste was abhorrent; he coughed, gagged it up but when faced with not drinking and drinking, he leaned in again for more. Behind him, he heard a droid beeping rapidly and looked over to see two large men, drab in heavy fabric and gear, approaching a girl and the noisy droid. Finn’s eyes widened at the sight at the astromech droid, which was a BB unit that was orange and white. 

_Poe’s droid,_ the memory of the Rebel pilot flooded him again and he started towards them. He saw one of the thugs push at the girl’s shoulder, the other hunching over the droid, covering it in some netting. _I have to help her!_

He stopped and was surprised at her reaction to the confrontation; she was tall and slender, but fit. She reacted the moment his hand touched her, whirling a staff she had handy and knocking him back. The other man grabbed her from behind, lifting her up and allowing her to solidly land a kick into the jaw of the first recovering man. 

“What the hell are you doing to my sister?” A voice roared out. Finn looked to see another girl rush towards them. She was curvier and slightly taller than the first girl, and her hair was a darker brown; she held an arm forward as she closed the metered distance between her and the thug. The standing man suddenly lurched back, releasing the girl, before he lifted off the ground and was thrown, hitting heavily into a parked ship part and falling to the ground, unmoving. 

Finn stood there, gaping. He was shocked how he started towards them with the assumption they needed help and was still trying to grasp how he saw the man being thrown without a hand touching him. 

The sisters met up; the one with a staff began to cut away at the netting covering the droid. It’s domed head peered towards Finn’s direction and it began to rock vibrantly back and forth, emitting beeps and squeals. “What?” Said the girl as she looked up, her sister helped remove the rest of the netting. The girl focused on Finn. “Who? Him?” 

Finn’s head tilted and the girl suddenly stood, grabbing her staff. “Rey,” the other girl called to her. “Wait!” But she was quick to close the gap between herself and Finn, slamming the dull end of her staff into his abdomen and knocking him back into the ground. 

Startled, Finn tried to push up but she leaned her weight into the staff, leveling him, “What’s your hurry, thief?” 

“What-? Thief?” 

The other girl and droid rushed over; the BB unit’s panel flew open and an arm telescoped out, emitting a small shock from the end into his shoulder. Finn cried out, “Hey, what was that?” 

“The jacket,” the other girl knelt to face him, her dark green eyes narrowed. “This droid says you stole it.” 

“Wha-? I’ve had a pretty messed up day, alright?” Finn gasped, trying to pull himself back to his feet again. “So, I would appreciate if you would stop accusing me-” The BB unit rolled forward and emitted another shock, stronger than the first, and knocked him back down. “Stop that!” 

“Where did you find this jacket?” The girl with the staff, Rey, repeated. “It belongs to his master.” 

The jacket, the leather hung heavily on his shoulders now. “It belongs, belonged, to Poe Dameron.” The BB unit rolled back at the name and past tense. “That was his name, right? He had been captured by the First Order. I helped him escape but our ship crashed.” His eyes dropped, “He didn’t make it.” 

The droid let out a woeful whine and Rey looked at Finn with renewed interest. “So you’re with the Resistance then?” 

The question slammed into him and he responded with the same ease as when he was questioned by Poe; he prayed she was not nearly as intuitive as the pilot. “Yes. Yes, obviously, I am with the Resistance. Yeah.” 

The girl kneeling did not stop her scowl, but she stood upright and held out a hand to help Finn to his feet. “I’ve never met a Resistance fighter before,” her words were deliberate and emphasized her disbelief in his claim. 

“Well, there is no set uniform. Some of us look like this.” He gestured to himself, sounding insulted. “Others look...different.” 

She noted his unease but continued, “BB-8,” she gestured to the droid, “says it's on a secret mission and that it has to get back to your base.” 

“Apparently it's carrying the map that leads to Luke Skywalker and everyone is after it,” he casually disclosed, unaware of the weight of his words. 

Both girls stood staring, shocked, confused. “Master Skywalker?” Rey finally managed and then looked at her sister. “Rem,” she said, “I thought he was dead.” 

The droid’s beeps cut through the shared state of disbelief, its tones panicked at something it spotted in the distance. Rey peered in the direction and asked, “What is it?” 

Finn spotted it first. Two Stormtroopers, in their brilliantly white armor, cut through the crowd and stopped to speak with the remaining battered thug from earlier. The disgruntled man gestured towards their direction and Finn dropped a knee to the ground, grabbing one hand from each girl and bringing them with him. 

“What is it?” Rem tried to twist back to look, in time to see a flourish of blasts from the barrels of the Troopers’ weapons, cutting through the crowd and narrowly missing them. “They’re shooting at us!” She gasped. 

Finn jumped to his feet, not needing to drag the girls to follow suit, and they bolted through the marketplace, crossing through the maze of tents and stands, moving towards the outskirts where the junkyard extended. “Yeah, they saw you with me and now you’re marked,” he lept over a sideways barrel, they followed and BB-8 rolled around frantically to keep up. 

“Well, thanks for that,” Rem growled. “Move that way!” She pointed towards the collection of battered ships. They began to run; overhead there was a shriek of TIE fighters, dropping blasts and beginning to destroy the outpost. “We can’t outrun them, but we can swipe one of those ships!” She waved ahead. 

“Our ship?” Rey asked and Rem nodded. 

“But we would need a pilot!” Finn exclaimed, running. 

“We’ve got one!” Rey responded. 

“Great,” Finn looked through the exhibit of ships as he ran and gestured towards the nearest ship to them, “What about that one?” 

“That one’s garbage!” Rey yelled back, “We’re taking what is ours!” 

Ahead was their quad-engine ship, that the faithful installments that had been made over the last six years with their measly pay made it stay rooted in place, awaiting for take off. Finn saw the girls exchanged looks, they looked gleeful like children, when a TIE fighter flew over with a barrage of fire, tearing through the ship. They stopped as it exploded, shrapnel thrown in all directions. 

“Shit,” Rem looked at Rey. 

She pursed her lips, “The garbage one will do.” And they moved towards Finn’s first recommendation and boarded the old Corellian ship. 

* * * *

Kylo Ren loomed with a presence that asphyxiated his surroundings. The heavy black robes, his mask that he adamantly wore, gave him an aura aimed to be avoided. The lieutenant was reminded of all this as he approached. “Sir.” He focused to keep his tone steady. “We were unable to acquire the droid on Jakku.” 

Kylo Ren was posed at the head of the ship, back towards the lieutenant and arms crossed his broad back, staring aimlessly out in the star field that stretched in front. He did not respond. 

The lieutenant continued, trying to avoid an empty silence, “It escaped aboard a stolen Corellian YT model freighter.” 

“The droid,” his tone was indecipherable through the mask, “stole a freighter?” 

The lieutenant shifted his weight. “No, sir. Not exactly. It had help.” 

Ren remained silent. 

He fought for the right words to use in this moment, “We have no confirmation, but we believe FN-2187 may have helped in the escape-” 

The crude red blade of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber lit up and sliced through a nearby console. The lieutenant winced from the tantrum, but was grateful it was not him seeing the end of the Sith lord’s blade. The heat from the saber, the hatred that ramified from Ren ended as quickly as it began. Shards of melted metal decorated around the floor and Ren turned his helmet back at the still standing lieutenant, “Anything else?” 

He swallowed, “The two had help. They were accompanied by some,” he swallowed again, “some girls.” 

Kyloe Ren reached; the lieutenant was ripped from his safe distance and rushed into his gloved hand. He gripped the lieutenant’s throat and leaned in, “What girls?” 

* * * *

They had escaped from Jakku, relatively unscathed. Rey switched to autopilot and rushed to meet Finn and Rem in the corridor; BB-8, who had been tucked away during the tumultuous flight, released its restraint and followed. “Finn! Your shooting was on point!” Her voice was ebullient from the escapade. “Which is good, since Rem can’t hit for shit!” 

Rem laughed, still in shock they were all still alive, “Your flying is what really saved us. Every shot was set up perfectly! Even I could hit marks.” 

“Who taught you?” Finn laughed and turned to Rey. “I just thought you two had never left Jakku-” 

“We’re not natives,” Rey snorted and Finn held up his hands in apology. “I have been doing scavenging for several years, pulling ships apart, I dunno, it all just clicks for me.” 

“She had practice at the junkyard, but she’s really a natural,” Rem bragged on her young sister and BB-8 erupted into a flurry of beeps. She peered down at the droid and tried to place a hand on top to calm it, “Hey, you’re okay. He’s with the Resistance. He’s going to help us get back.” She looked back up at him, “We never got your name.” 

He seemed to shift his stance, but perked up at the question. “Finn,” he said with newfound pride. “What’s yours?” 

“I’m Rem,” she placed a hand on her chest. “Rey’s our pilot.” 

They exchanged smiles and a moment of camaraderie, when an alarm sounded and a sheet of steam burst from under the grating. 

“Oh, hey!” Rey dropped to her knee. “Quick, help me with this." 

They moved together to remove a piece of the paneling that allowed Rey to drop down below as Rem, Finn, and BB-8 peered over to watch. The steam continued to pour over her, nearly masking her aha moment; her head popped back up. “It’s the motivator,” she spotted an open storage box behind them with an array of tools sprawled around it. “Find me a Harris wrench.” 

Rem moved towards the tools and snatched up the wrench, sliding it across the floor. It snagged on the grating and Finn was quick to lean over and bring it to Rey’s hand. “How bad is it?” He asked as she disappeared back into the steam. 

“If we want to live, not good,” she called up. “Rem! Find me a pilex driver! Hurry!” 

Rem searched the storage box and tossed another tool towards Finn, who seemed preoccupied with BB-8. “Finn!” She gestured towards the tool within his grasp and he was quick to pass it to Rey. 

“We need to keep this thing running. They’re not going to let us just get away,” Finn looked anxious. 

“She’ll keep it up in the air, trust that,” Rem reassured. “But we do need to know where the Resistance base is.” 

BB-8’s dome head twirled between the two and another string of beeps rang out. 

Rey’s head popped up once again, “The Ileenium system?” BB-8 beeped again. “Perfect. Rem, can you find me some bonding tape?” 

“Yes, the Ileenium system, that’s where the base is,” Finn looked over at BB-8 and back to Rey. “Get us there as fast as you can.” 

“I need that bonding tape first,” she muttered. 

“Head’s up!” Rem stood over and dropped the roll. Rey responded with an outreached hand, it falling perfectly into her palm. 

“What will you guys do?” Finn asked. 

Rem shrugged, “Just continue with this path, I suppose. The idea was always to leave Jakku and join the Resistance. This little situation just kind of escalated the plan a bit.” 

The alarm stopped and Rey climbed back out to sit on the grate, her legs still dangling. “I am going to be a pilot,” she smiled, smug with her makeshift work. “The best one in the fleet.” 

Finn smiled; he had a thought that crossed his mind, _I can fly anything._ “They’ll always need good pilots,” he offered. 

The power shut off throughout the ship and the emergency lights dimly lit the corridor. She scrambled to her feet. “This can’t be good,” she said as she made her way back to the cockpit, Finn and Rem trailing. Rey dropped into the pilot’s seat and looked over the instrumentation panel to see every light was out; she flipped a few switches, but it remained unresponsive. “Someone’s locked onto us,” she looked up, peering out the glass shield, searching. “All the controls are completely overridden.” 

The ship, slowly, neared a large freighter ahead whose hangar was open and could easily enveloped the ship. 

“It’s the First Order,” Finn whispered, terror tightening his chest again. 

Rem was on her feet, “Come on.” They rushed back into the main hold and lifted up the paneling again. Rey hopped down first and Finn struggled to lift BB-8. Rem, without a word, lifted the little droid and lowered it without laying a hand on it, then followed behind. 

“What the hell-” Finn started as he helped pull the grate back overhead. 

Rem shushed him, “They’re coming.” 

The port airlock hissed as it opened. The steps were heavy and stopped on top of where they were hidden. One was a man and the other, larger being was covered in fur. “Chewie,” the man said after a moment. “We’re home.” 

BB-8 whirred urgently, causing them to jump and side step off the panel. The Wookie ripped the covering off to reveal the trio, hands lifted in a halfhearted surrender. “What the hell?” Said the man, as he knelt down and offered a hand. “Who the hell are you? Where is the pilot?” 

Rey grabbed his hand. “I’m the pilot,” she said while climbing out and then turned to help her sister and Finn out of the compartment; BB-8 used a magnetic arm to climb out on its own. 

“You?” He scoffed. The Wookie growled at him, then lowered into a moan. 

“No, it’s true,” Rem said once she was above again. “We’re the only ones onboard this junk.” 

“Junk?” He sounded offended. “Where’d you even get this ship?” 

“Niima Outpost,” Rey peered at him closely. He was older and well weathered, wearing a worn leather jacket, a collarless button up and dark pants. She spotted a blaster in a belt that was hitched lower on his hip; it was holding a DL-44. 

“Jakku? That junkyard?” He spat. He looked back at the Wookie, “I told you we should have double-checked the wetsern reaches.” He looked back at Rey, “Who had it? Ducain?” 

“We stole it from Unkar Plutt,” Rey remembered the summer she saw it in the junkyard. She kept her comments to herself about the junk heap it seemingly was as Unkar boasted about the newest addition. “He stole it from Ducain.” 

“Who stole it from me!” He cried out, “Well, you can tell him Han Solo stole back the Millennium Falcon, for good.” Han and the Wookie moved towards the cockpit, leaving them in a state of awestruck. 

“This is the Millennium Falcon?” Rey was amazed. 

“This hunk of junk?” Rem was equally amazed, but in a different way. 

Rey looked at her sister, elated. “This is the ship that made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs!” 

“Han Solo, the Rebellion General?” Finn asked. “Aren’t you a war hero?” 

The Wookie answered him with a grumbled response, shrugging his massive shoulders; Han ignored the comment. “Some moof-milker put a compressor on the ignition line!” He called from the cockpit and Rey rushed to meet him in there, the rest followed. 

“Unkar did that. I knew it was a mistake when I saw it. It puts too much stress on-” 

“-on the hyperdrive,” Han finished and he looked at the girl again, studying her for a moment with a hint of admiration in his eyes. He pushed past them again, returning to the main corridor to continue surveying any other changes, “Chewie, throw ‘em in a pod, we’ll drop them at the nearest inhabited planet.” 

Rey looked taken aback, watching him go. “Wait, what.” 

“No,” Rem pursued to face him; he would release random compartments, look around, and move to the next. He did not acknowledge her. “No, we need your help, _general._ ” She emphasized the last word to cut through and he flinched in response to the title. 

“This droid,” Rey had followed them and she placed a hand on BB-8, “has to get to the Resistance base as soon as possible!” 

“It's carrying the map to Luke Skywalker!” Finn added, his words stopped Han from assessing his ship. “You’re that Han Solo that fought with the Rebellion. You must have known him.” 

Han looked at the three sets of eyes that waited for a response. “Yeah, I knew him.” He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “Let’s see whatcha got,” he finally said to the droid. 

BB-8 rolled back to reveal a soft, green hologram of planets, stars, systems that filled the main corridor. Despite its size, Han noticed something right away. “This map’s not complete. It’s just a piece.” Han scratched at the back of his head for a moment, his mind processed their earlier pleads. The Wookie moaned again and he looked at his companion. “Dammit, we gotta get out of here.” 

Finn looked incredulous at the change of heart. “You’re just abandoning this other ship?” 

“Damn thing is filled to the brim with Rathtars,” Han moved back towards the cockpit, to the pilot seat. “It’s best if we leave it before anyone comes along.” 

“Rathtars? Wait, who else would-” but Finn was unable to finish when Rey knocked past him to take the seat next to Han. 

The Wookie remained in the doorway and grumbled, amused and annoyed at the girl’s brass behavior. Han asked her, “What the hell are you doing now?” 

She opened the panel and began to fidget with the wiring, “Unkar installed a coolant reservoir. I watched him when I worked the junkyard. If we don’t prime that, this thing won’t go anywhere fast.” 

The admiration returned, but his tone remained surly, “I really hate that guy.” 

“Me too,” Rey responded. “But I learned a lot and you are going to need that knowledge in a co-pilot.” 

The Wookie growled again and Han waved a hand to calm him, “I have one right here.” 

“But he wasn’t at that junkyard and I was,” Rey argued, unabashed. 

The Wookie grumbled something that vaguely translated to manning the guns since someone was always trying to kill them anyway, and he moved back towards the gunner’s position. Rey reached over to start flipping switches, Han again admired her familiarity with the ship’s controls, as the Millennium Falcon roared to life with more bravado than their first attempt back at the junkyard. It then beeped a warning and Rey’s eyes flitted over to see what was broken, when Finn pointed in front of them. 

“Was this what you were running from?” He asked Han. 

Pulling into the hangar were two separate ships, equally armed. Without a word, blasts exploded from the underbelly canon of the Millennium Falcon and blew one of the ships to pieces, throwing shrapnel into the other ship and crippling it. 

The Wookie roared a warning and Han responded, “Yes, I see them!” As he threw the clutch into gear and the ship lifted and moved forward. More blasts erupted from the surviving ship and the Falcon dipped out of the hangar and lurched into lightspeed, leaving behind the freighter, the fighters and the apparent abundance of Rathtars.


	3. Chapter III

**CHAPTER III**

The assembly room was dark with a solitary light that basked down on the large hologram of Supreme Leader Snoke. Despite his stone grey coloring and grainy appearance from the visual projection, his presence still commanded the room. 

Kylo Ren stood solemn and cloaked in a heavy black garb that did not constrict his movements. General Hux was a pale officer with sharp orange hair and a pinched expression. They stood apart and looked upwards, listening to each calculated word Snoke spoke. 

“This droid will soon be delivered to the Resistance,” his voice reverberated through them. “It will lead them to the last Jedi. If Skywalker returns, a new Jedi order will follow.” 

General Hux spoke in a trill, “Supreme Leader, I take full responsibility for th-” 

“General,” Snoke silenced him, his voice rising over him. “Your incompetencies will be reviewed later.” General Hux visibly swallowed hard. “Right now, our strategy must change if we are to stop the Resistance’s new hope.” 

“The weapon,” General Hux tried again, finding confidence behind his words. “It is ready. I believe the time has come to use it, to showcase our power and inevitable takeover. We shall destroy any government that supports the Resistance, the Republic. Without these allies to protect them, the Resistance will be vulnerable, and we can stop them before they ever could reach Skywalker.” 

Snoke considered the words for several beats, the silence crippling, before he said, “Go and oversee preparations.” “Yes, Supreme Leader,” he was elated and gave a cokcsure, smug expression, that still only seemed pinched to Kylo Ren, before exiting the room and leaving the Sith apprentice alone with his master. 

“There has been an awakening,” Snoke began again, a new intimacy to his tone. “Have you felt it?” 

Kylo Ren stared up for a moment. “Yes.” 

“There’s something more,” he continued. “The droid we have been seeking is now aboard the Millennium Falcon and in the hands of your father, Han Solo.” 

“He means nothing to me,” Ren was quick to respond. 

“Even you, master of the Knights of Ren, have never before faced such a test,” Snoke leaned over him, his expression unsure. “There will be a moment that comes for you to prove your devotion to the dark side. I have seen it.” 

“By the grace of your training,” Ren bowed his head. “I will not be seduced otherwise.” 

“We shall see,” Snoke leaned back, the hologram beginning to dissipate. “We shall see.” 

Kylo Ren was alone, truly, and able to recapitulate the interaction. He reached behind and clipped the back of the helmet to release it, pulling it off for a moment of clarity. His black locks tumbled forward, always uncontrollable, and his eyes, both dark and menacing, looked around the emptied room. It had been six grueling years of training to learn the dark side of the force and there was a mixture of having done so much and nothing at all to show for it. This test Snoke predicted would finally show and measure his worth for him to see, as well as the First Order. 

_You’re not a killer,_ a voice from long ago went through his mind. As quick as it was to slip in, he shut it out. 

_You have not seen me now,_ he responded, defiant. _You cannot comprehend the dark side of the force._ He stood for a moment, unsure if his mechanized response was for that brief feeling that had washed over him or if he said it to assure himself. 

__

Nothing responded, just the empty silence; he turned on his heel to exit the room. 

*** * * ***

They were seemingly a safe distance away from the Rathtars and smuggler mess on the abandoned vessel; Han left his counterpart Chewbacca in the cockpit to watch over the autopilot controls while he returned to the evaluation of his ship, with Rey at his heels. 

__

Rem felt an unease that she could not quite place; she was seated at a table with the holochess design, her palms flat on the smooth surface to keep them from fidgeting, alone in the main hold. Though the Force was predominant in their heritage, it was always more natural for Rey to come by whereas Rem was more doting to master her craft. She thought back on the time spent on Ahch-To, the lessons Master Skywalker had taught her, and focused on her breathing as she reached out with her mind. 

__

Throughout the ship, she felt her sister’s giddiness as she and Han worked together in the engine bay, she felt a paternal proudness from Han despite his rough facade, she felt the Wookie’s comfort being back in the old cockpit, and she felt Finn’s disquiet presence and peering eyes when he entered the room. She opened her own to meet his and placed a smile on her face; whatever that feeling that had crossed her mind was outside of this ship. “What are you worried about?” She asked Finn. 

__

She felt the tightness and agitation churning in his chest as he walked over and sat across from her at the holographic game table. He sat in silence for a moment before attempting to sound casual in saying, “I feel like the First Order is aware we’re on the ship.” His mannerisms gave him away though as she noticed Finn licking his lips, his eyes were dark and glossed with panic. “Like, specifically this Corellian model and I don’t know why.” 

__

Maybe that was a mutual unease in the moment and they both somehow felt it, Rem wondered. “It could just be the fear that comes with being on the run,” she offered and waited for a beat. Finn did not seem to relax. “How did you manage to escape?” She asked, her tone soft. 

__

Finn thought back, remembering the rouge smile Poe had flashed when he divulged his improvised plan back on the Star Destroyer. “I helped escape from the holding cell,” which was the truth, as far as Finn was concerned. “But Poe Dameron was the pilot. We escaped on a TIE fighter but they shot us down.” He seemed sad. “I must have been thrown from the ship. I couldn’t find him and the entire wreckage was just sucked underground, the sand just swallowed everything. I barely got out.” His hands absently played with the hem of the pilot’s jacket. 

__

“You must have landed out in the Goazon area, out in the Badlands,” Rem grimaced. “I always worried about losing Rey in the Sinking Fields, but she manages just fine on her excursions.” She looked over him again, her eyes narrowed to focus on him. “How long has this feeling,” she gestured towards her chest, “been bothering you?” 

__

Finn swallowed, his hand rubbed at the knot of anxiety in his chest. It was something that had flared up sporadically since training, but was increasing since that night on Jakku. He wanted to respond with a bravado front, but he noticed her eyes were narrowed to focus and not to judge him, so he instead found himself admitting, “It’s been more frequent since we escaped.” 

__

She saw his eyes stray at the we and wondered about the Resistance fighter who they never had a chance to meet; Rem felt the pain of him being lost in Finn. She shifted her seat and moved closer to him. “I used to do something to help my sister whenever she felt like this. She always struggled with the,” she faltered at what word to use, “the angst she felt after our parents died.” She reached over but let her hand hover respectfully above his chest. “May I?” 

__

He was hesitant but nodded. Rem placed her hand on his chest and he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth build at her touch and then spread throughout his body, to the tips of every end of his appendages and leaving a calm and uplifting residue throughout his entire being. Finn opened his eyes to see Rem, who was no longer seated, but now standing at the hallway and peering towards the cockpit. He could still feel the warmth from her palm had been. “What was that?” He breathed. 

__

Rem’s focus was now on the cockpit. “An old nursery trick,” she lied as she removed herself from his line of sight and curled around the hallway to see the long arms of the Wookie checking the coordinates that had been imputed. She only remembered bits of what Rey explained to her but knew enough to realize they were not going to where they needed to be. 

*** * * ***

Han did not mind when the girl Rey followed him. He had concerns, at first, about the possibility of ceaseless questions, but instead, she was silent and watching, a shadow that lurked around as he scrutinized what Unkar Plutt had done to his ship. She helped him maintenance the Falcon and he appreciated her human grasp, though not as strong as a Wookie’s, it did allow more intricate work to be done on the engine; her slender arms were able to weave into the mechanics of the ship and reach into the unknown of the sublight engines with ease. 

__

Another alarm sounded. Rey was now hunched over the hyperdrive and Han guided her from the access ladder below; her hands flitted across the controls, lithe and working quickly with his commands. “This hyperdrive is going to blow us into three different pieces-” he stopped his words as the alarm halted and looked back as she climbed down to face him, beaming with pride. “What’d you do to be so smug?” 

__

“I bypassed the compressor,” she gave a short laugh. 

__

He could not help but grin and clasped a hand on her shoulder. “That is some quick thinking, kid,” his tone was affectionate and acknowledged her pride in her work. “You’re quite the natural. I haven’t seen talent since, ya know,” she saw him slightly puff out his chest with a rogue smile. “Me.” 

__

“You’re not taking us to the Resistance base?” Rem’s voice cut through their moment and was drenched in betrayal. 

__

They both turned to see Rem standing, squared, and with her eyes locked onto Han. 

__

Rey looked at him and was heartsore at the idea; the infamous Han Solo was beginning to warm up to her as she showcased her adaptable aptitude of mechanical work with the Millennium Falcon. She liked having him around to both critique and admire her handiwork. 

__

“You want my help?” Han retorted, moving back towards the cockpit. “You’re getting just that. We’re going to see an old friend. She’ll get your droid to where it needs to go.” He gestured through the glass; the ship was flying, weaving through tall, green covered mountains and fell above to follow a large river that snaked between. A dime size castle, stone and solid, stood on a cul-de-sac in the center of the water, up ahead. “This is our stop.” 

__

“You’re not even curious as to know what happened to Master Skywalker?” Rem asked, her pale cheeks flushed. 

__

“There were always rumors, stories.” Han shrugged, “The people that knew him best think he went off to look for the very first Jedi temple.” 

__

“The Jedi were a real thing?” Finn asked; he came up behind and dropped into one of the cockpit seats. His hand touched his chest and he looked at Rem. who he found staring back. 

__

“Of course they are,” she responded but quieted when she saw how Han looked at Finn, who noticed the expression of disbelief on the young man’s face. 

__

“I used to wonder that myself,” his tone was empathetic. “Thought it was a bunch of mambo-jumbo-'' Rem crossed her arms and failed to keep her emotions off her face, “-magical power holding together good, evil, the dark side and the light.” Han was silent for a moment and looked up at the scowling Rem and then back at Finn, who was now leaned forward in his seat, waiting for Han to finish his thought. “Crazy thing is though, it’s true. The Force, the Jedi, all of it exists beyond the stories that we were told.” 

__

Finn leaned back into his seat, soaking in the information and thinking back to the main hold. He realized this was the explanation that Rem had failed to share with him. Nursery trick, he gave her a look, but she was still focused on Han. 

__

The sisters remained silent and Rem relaxed her scowl. “We have to find him,” Rem said finally and Han peered at her, curious from her statement prior but before he could ask, a voice cut through the comms. 

__

“Han Solo,” the voice was heavily accented. “Maz has been waiting for you.” 

__

The ship docked on the shore amongst other cruisers and the ramp descended into the soft earth. Han dug out spare blasters, giving one to Finn and the other to Rey. “You might need this,” he said to her. 

__

Rey made a face, “I think I can handle myself.” 

__

“I know you can,” he retorted and he noticed she was pleased. “That’s why I’m giving it to you. Take it. You know how to use it?” 

__

Rem began down the ramp, leaving their exchange; she did not take offense when she did not receive one and was more absorbed into looking over the planet. 

__

Takodana was green and alive, vastly different from the sand wasteland that was Jakku. Rolls of mountains covered the terrain and surrounded, like a fortress, the massive stone castle structure. Colorful flags, representing different worlds, fluttered in the breeze up high; there was a bridge that arched and led towards the outside foyer. 

__

The beauty was captivating as they walked over. Rey skipped a step to catch up with Rem and excitedly whispered, “He offered me a job.” 

__

It broke her concentration, “He what?” 

__

“He wants me on his crew. Han Solo. The Han Solo.” Rey gushed, her hazel eyes glittered at the prospect. 

__

“Rey,” Rem watched her tone, wanting to only remind her of what they truly needed to do and not be controlling like Rey would always complain. “Remember, we have to help the Resistance. And now that we know he could possibly be alive, we have to finish what we started with Master Skywalker. Our training.” 

__

Her moment of bliss evaporated at the realization; she dishearteningly tucked the loaned blaster into the straps across her back to keep it in place. “I never chose to begin it,” Rey recalled. “I was too young.” 

__

They both had been. Rem had glimpses of her life with their parents and Rey held no memory of them at all, being only a toddler when they were dropped off at the Jedi temple. Master Skywalker had seemed so frightening in the beginning, but Master Organa had been the maternal warmth they both craved from an adult. “They decided it was best for us,” she responded on behalf of their parents. 

__

“And looked how well that went,” Rey hissed back, as they neared the entranced. “Fleeing for our lives, stranded on a desert wasteland for too long. I had forgotten the color green until this moment!” 

__

Rem squinted her eyes at the melodramatic words of her sister and Rey avoided the look. “It’s more than our training, though.” She attempted another tactic. “The Resistance needs good pilots.” 

__

“And he will help me be one!” 

__

The conversation ceased when they reached the doors that opened to a surge of music and madness. “This all belongs to Maz Kanata,” Han explained, pushing in front of them as they weaved their way through the crowd of humanoids and aliens alike. “She has been running this watering hole for the last thousand years. She’ll help us find a clean ship to return your droid to the Resistance base.” 

__

“Clean?” Finn questioned, an eyebrow raised. 

__

“We found the Falcon on our scanners, so what’s to think the First Order is not far behind us?” Han looked forward through the mass of gamblers and drinkers, broken up into groups around sturdy tables and chairs sprawled across the mess of a hall, his eyes searching. “She’s our best bet.” 

__

“We can trust her, right?” Finn found that he had begun to question everything. 

__

“She has no love for the First Order,” he replied. “Which is what we need right now.” 

__

“Han Solo!” 

__

The music stopped and the room grew quiet; every eye turned to focus on Han, the sisters, Finn, and the droid. “Oh boy,” Han muttered, sotto voce, and then brightened. “Hey, Maz!” 

__

Maz Kanata was four feet tall and upright on one of the tables, staring right at them. She was the color of warm amber with small scales of thin skin that covered her and her reptilian features. She wore large, adjustable goggles over her eyes and her clothes were rich jeweled tones with bangles of silver bracelets on her delicate wrists. Maz climbed down the table and walked towards them, people moving or being pushed out her way. The music and brouhaha started up again and Finn appreciated the attention no longer was solely focused on them. 

__

She gestured for them to follow and they trailed in a line behind the small alien to a booth tucked into a cut out in the walls. The table was large and decorated with food and she insisted they eat. Finn and the sisters were quick to grab a plate and dive in, realizing the while it had been some time since their last meal. 

__

As Maz prepped a plate for herself, she asked Han, “Where is my boyfriend?” Her tone was teasing. 

__

“Chewie is on the Falcon,” Han shrugged, pouring himself a mug of Corellian ale. 

__

“The Millennium Falcon always seems to find you,” Maz said. “Just like the mess with the Resistance.” 

__

Han took a drink and set the mug down, “Maz, we need your help. I have to get this droid back to Leia.” 

__

“You’ve been running away from this fight for too long, Han Solo,” she scolded him. “Go home!” 

__

He would not meet her eyes. “Leia doesn’t want to see me,” he fidgeted with the handle of his mug. “I can’t blame her.” 

__

“She needs you,” she continued. “The Resistance needs you. You do not know what the First Order is capable of.” 

__

Han scoffed and Finn felt a bolt in his chest that compelled him to speak up, “Han, she’s right. You don’t understand their evil like I do.” He had flashes, again, of the night on Jakku. He rubbed a palm on the center of his chest, trying to loosen the knot of panic as he spoke. “They won’t stop until they slaughter us and enslave the rest.” 

__

Maz peered at him, “And what is it that makes you understand them more?” 

Finn exchanged a look with Rem, who peered at him the same way as when they first met back on Jakku; Rey just continued to eat, heartily. He faltered, aware of the length of his original lie, “I’m not Resistance, I’m not a hero.” He took a breath. “I was a Stormtrooper.” 

BB-8 whirred and only then did Rey stop mid-chew to stare. She swallowed and finally said, “But you said you escaped with his master.” 

“Poe Dameron,” Finn spoke his name out loud. “He,” _named me,_ he thought. “He saved me. We broke out together and he piloted the ship so we could go back and retrieve BB-8. Everything else I said was true,” he added quickly. 

“What you were back then, is an asset to the Resistance now,” Maz looked around to watch the sisters' reaction: Rey was accepting they all had their pasts but what mattered was the present and Rem seemed assured of her sense about him, but understood why he kept quiet about it. “You and this droid, both,” Maz finished. 

She adjusted her goggles, engorging her eyes to focus onto Rey now. “You, girl,” she spoke to her as she finished her plate, changing the subject. “Go to the cellar and bring me back something.” 

Rey almost choked on her drink, “What?” She wiped her mouth with a cloth. “What is it?" 

“You’ll know when you find it,” Maz Katana’s voice was certain and commanding. Rey felt impelled to stand, folding her cloth and draping it over her empty plate. She began to move towards where they had entered, remembering a descending staircase. 

Rem watched and quickly swallowed; she moved to follow her when a small hand rested on her forearm, stopping her. “You must let her go,” she peered at Maz, her tone was prophetic. “You cannot control her. She must be left to make her own choices.” 

Rem’s eyes narrowed onto the alien, “She’s my sister.” 

“And her own self,” Maz nodded. “She will be fine. Now, girl, tell me where the two of you are from originally.” 

Her tongue felt glued to the roof her mouth from the direct question and her gaze went from Han, who was lost in thought, and then to Finn, who seemed peeked with curiosity at her reply. “We were there,” she finally found her voice. “At Ahch-To, at the new Jedi temple.” 

Han’s attention snapped back to her and he really looked at Rem for the first time. “You were one of the twelve?” 

Rem shook her head, “No, we came later. Our parents left us in Master Skywalker’s and Master Organa’s care. We remained there until the end,” her voice was sad, her eyes clouded at the memory. 

“What happened?” Finn asked. 

“We were ambushed,” was all she could managed. 

Han choked on the elaboration. “One boy,” he started, “an apprentice, turned against the Jedi and destroyed everything.” 

Maz focused on Rem and she felt memory of the fateful night rushing at her. She felt the heat from the beginning flames as she and Rey moved through the ruined temple; they stepped over the slaughtered bodies of padawans and the Lanais, who had faithfully served Master Skywalker. They moved quickly towards his chambers to find it empty and engulfed in flames. 

_We have to get out of here,_ Rey’s eyes were wide with fear. She was only thirteen. 

_The help’s entrance,_ Rem decided, grabbing her sister’s clammy hand and pulling her. _There should be a ship there we can use to escape!_

__

Their movement was limber to adapt to the falling debris from the crumbling ceiling overhead. The flames grew and began to blacken the interior of the temple. A darkness crept from behind and halted their steps. Rem turned to see Vicrul, large and pulsating with hatred, holding his phrik scythe in one hand. He moved towards them, each step deliberate, and he allowed the blade to drag behind him for the effect. He basked in their unadulterated fear, the girl’s feet were cemented where they stood, when Ben Solo had slid in from an adjacent hallway, his lightsaber drawn. 

__

“He saved us,” Rem said, her voice soft. She was back at the table, all eyes focused on her; the bustled sounds of the room slowing gaining volume again. 

__

“But how?” Maz pried, peering intently as to see inside her mind; the goggles engorged her eyes and emphasized as they narrowed onto her, pressing her to reveal more of the memory to the table. 

__

_Go,_ Ben screamed into her mind. She felt terror and anger but she still was rooted. _Leave this place!_ He threw a hand up in Vicrul’s direction, throwing him back and breaking his hold on them. Her eyes locked onto his; the red in the flames illuminated his pale complexion, his black locks messy and drenched in sweat. _Go, Rem,_ his eyes had pleaded. 

__

“Ben saved you?” She was brought back and looked at Han, seeing the smallest spark of hope that lit his eyes. 

__

“But he did not strike down the one you called Vicrul,” Maz reminded, as she reached for her goblet and brought it to her thin lips. “I am beginning to understand your purpose in all of this,” she waved a small hand around, “but, now, you must let your sister find hers.” 

__


End file.
